Three's a crowd
by girlcalledsun
Summary: Just after the Scanran War, a weary Kel is back at the palace. She meets up with old friends from the King's Own, but how much has the War changed them all?
1. Chapter 1

"So, Masbolle, how are you today?" Lerant of Eldorne, standard bearer of the King's Own, settled his tray at the mess hall table. The man sitting opposite lifted his blue eyes from his bowl of stew.

"All the better for seeing you, young Eldorne." Domitan of Masbolle answered. He smiled at his friend, long mouth curving upwards with real warmth. "How were the patrols?"

"Same as ever. The Riders were on poor form."

"Got the better of them, did we?"

"And then some." Lerant grinned, brown eyes lighting at the memory. "You see any member of Gret's Shadows for the next month, and the drinks are on them." He nodded happily, a comma of dark blond hair flopping into his right eye. Dom watched him push it away with a calloused hand.

"Any news from the Palace?" Lerant asked. "Dom? Any gossip?"

The older man seemed far away. "Oh, yes. Well, I was talking to Leah, the maid in the kitchens, you know…"

"…I know, and I know you know." Lerant smirked.

"That's a most unbecoming expression, Eldorne. Anyway, she said there's a wave of knights being re-called from the North, now the war is winding down. A lot of the younger knights. King's Reach, Hollyrose, Distart…um…not cousin Neal, he's on healer duties…"

"…thank the Gods for small mercies…" Lerant butted in. Dom ignored him.

"…and I think Kel is being re-called, too."

"Oh, wonderful." Lerant sighed dramatically. "I guess she'll be hanging about the Own again, now." He drummed his fingers on the rough wood of the table.

"I thought you two got on quite well, at the end."

"Yes, but. She's not one of us."

For all he liked Kel, Dom was flattered by the fizz of camaraderie there. The Own was Lerant's dearest family, closer than his blood, and Dom felt touched to be included. Fairness did make him argue the Lady Knight's case, though. That, and the fact he could see her walking across the mess hall towards their table.

"She rode with us for four years, Lerant. She's one of the good guys. I was with her in Scanra, and well.." he waved his hand vaguely as he searched for words, "…she's a hero, if there are such things." He could see Kel cross her eyes in mock annoyance as she slipped between the benches to stand behind Lerant's seat.

"I know." Lerant sighed. "Still, I never quite know how to take her, even now."

"Take me as you please." The voice sounded very close to Lerant's ear. He shrieked, a very high pitched noise, and spilt his mug of tea. Kel slid onto the bench next to him.

"How are you, lads?" She asked, cheerfully. Dom smiled blithely back at her, and began to fill her in on all the news of the Own. Lerant, busily mopping his breeches with a napkin, thought her mouth smiled, but her eyes were shuttered. He noticed Kel's eyes flicker, and they caught his for a second. Her lips twitched in a smile, an acknowledgement, Lerant thought. Then she seemed to laugh at one of Dom's stories. No, he considered, he still wasn't sure what to make of Keladry, at all.

"How is it to be back?" Dom asked Kel finally. They had been talking most of the afternoon, with various men popping by to say hello. Lerant had eventually headed off, citing some errands he needed to run for Raoul, and now the mess hall was nearly deserted. Only a few kitchen staff pottered about, clearing tables, clattering pots and pans. Kel watched them, and tapped one long forefinger on the wooden table. Dom could see the tension in the muscles of her cheek. "You'd rather be back in Scanra, wouldn't you." He stated mildly. The traitor muscles flickered under her tanned skin again..

"I am glad the war is over, Dom." Kel said. She turned her head to look him square in the eye. "I just don't know what use I am here, at the Palace. Surely the best place for me is up on the border. And I need to keep busy, I need to be occupied." She resumed her tap-tapping, calloused fingertips making a sharp sound.

"I would think, after nearly two years on the front line, you'd be glad of a rest."

"I don't need rest, I need work. I don't know what to do with myself."

"Kel, take some advice; have the rest. Sleep, read, train if you have to, but just be Kel for a little while, without all your burdens." Dom eyed Kel's dubious expression. "Raoul would say the same."

"Oh, I know it makes sense, Dom, really I do. I'm just not sure where to start."

"Well, go and train with the Yamani ladies. They'll be glad to see you."

"Shinko and the others are still at Port Legann. They're staying for the summer, with the baby. Well, babies when Yuki has hers.

"Really? Yuki too?" Kel nodded. "I must congratulate Neal." Dom sat back in his seat, eyebrows raised.

"That's why he's up on the border, still, so he can get leave for when the baby's due." Kel leaned her head on her hands. "I miss them all, Dom, I really do. The Yamani ladies. Neal, and Tobe - he stayed with all the horses at New Hope - even Fanche. I miss the noise, and the bustle, and being part of it all. I don't want to be the outsider again." Kel finished in a quiet voice, before taking a deep breath and rubbing her face with her hands.

Dom felt for her, he really did. He wondered if she had voiced such thoughts to him because he was the only one there.

"Well, you know you are always welcome with the Own." He said quietly. "I don't know if I'm any good for a game of fan toss, but train with us, if you want." He moved his arm, to pat her shoulder across the table, but Kel, face still in her hands, shifted position before he could do so. He carried on speaking to cover the fumble. "Lerant's just back from patrols, he'll be kicking his heels if you need some company." _Now why did I say that? He'll be livid if he thinks he has to entertain Kel, and I'll never hear the end of it. _Dom thought to himself.

"Thank you, Dom." Kel looked across at him. "I'm glad I have a friend in you."

"You have more friends than you think, Kel." He smiled, and took her hand this time, giving it a brief, firm squeeze. Kel returned his smile. "Now, I must go and do shouty sergeant things," he grinned, standing up.

"I shall go and read my book, and have an early and peaceful night." Kel stood too, and watched him go, blue tunic weaving through the late afternoon sunbeams in the mess hall. Dom had always been there, since she was a squire, a constant source of reassurance and support. She was glad he was still there.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was kindly edited by sarcastic rabbit, which is why you might find reading a more pleasant experience.**

Kel decided to take Dom at his word, and spend a little time sparring with the men of the King's Own. Early the next morning she headed down to the training yards in front of the barracks, and was surprised to find them nearly empty. A small group of new recruits were practising hand to hand combat with Sergeant Osbern, whilst a lone figure was running through a sword drill. Kel held back for a second or two; she had expected bustle and familiar faces, some easy company. Wondering if she should stay or go, she found her eye drawn to the swordsman, and watched him for a moment. Kel found herself admiring the control he had; the way the line of steel sliced through the air without a tremor, slow sweeps turning seamlessly into fast and darting cuts. She had barely used her Griffin during the war, and this display of skill made her intensely aware that she needed practice.

Hefting a practice sword from the barrel, she headed over. The swordsman finished his drill, holding a salute for a second, before stabbing the point of his practice sword into the ground and beginning to circle his shoulders. It was only when he turned to reach for the water canteen on the ground that Kel realised it was Lerant. He started at the sight of her.

"By the Black God, you could give a man an apoplexy, creeping up like that." He scowled before taking a swig of water. "What do you want?"

Kel raised her eyebrows at him. She knew it was wrong, but she was slightly less impressed now that she knew the identity of the swordsman; there was no glamour about Lerant. "I was wondering if you fancied sparring?" she asked carelessly. "If you aren't too tired?"

"You aren't even warmed up - you'll pull a muscle, and then I'll be on a charge for injuring the great Lady Knight Keladry, Protector of the Small."

"Well, I'll warm up; you can get your breath back, and then it'll be fair. I promise I won't put you on a charge if you beat me," Kel smiled sweetly.

"If? When, more like. I am a swordsman of the King's Own, not a Scanran savage."

"Funny, with your hair like that I could mistake you for a Scanran."

Lerant tried to see what his hair looked like in the dull metal surface of his canteen, whilst Kel moved a little bit away and began some stretches. By the time she had finished, he seemed to have slicked his hair back using his remaining water, and was making a few lazy passes with his sword.

"You look better with it off your face," Kel approved.

Lerant gave her a salute that would have had him on fatigues for a week if Osbern had noticed from across the field.

"Free fight?" he asked.

"Free fight." Kel confirmed. "Guard!"

They circled each other warily. Lerant nipped in with a few little feints, which Kel easily blocked.

_He's of a height with me,_ _but he's maybe a little heavier, _Kel mused. _He never used to carry much weight. S_he watched the muscles of his chest under the light material of his training tunic. _I wonder what fighting he's done to bulk him up so?_

With no tell tale bunch of those muscles, Lerant sliced quickly across Kel's body, causing her to jump back.

_Lots of fighting, anyway,_ she thought, _He's far better than I remember. _

She made her own attack next, sweeping down with a backhanded cut.

Lerant blocked, the clang of the dull practice swords loud in the still morning. He quickly disengaged, pirouetting round to slash upwards at Kel's belly. She crashed her blade down on his, somehow stumbling into a fresh guard stance. Damn, he was quick! She felt a little grim delight, as she gripped her sword tightly and moved her feet carefully.

If Lerant saw the combat blaze in her eyes, he didn't show it. He countered a few rapid slices from Kel, and stepped back neatly. He smiled.

"Have we started, then, Lady Knight?"

"Why? Getting tired, Eldorne?"

"Only of the dancing we seem to be doing here."

Lerant drew his blade into some lazy, horizontal swipes, sending Kel back a few steps as she blocked, fighting cleanly and neatly. The sword felt more natural now; her confidence grew as they parried.

She shifted suddenly and drove her opponent body to body. The steel grated, an ugly noise, and Kel looked into Lerant's eyes. They glimmered wickedly. She barely had time to register his expression before he hooked a foot behind her ankle and swept her legs from under her. She smacked down, flat on her back on the dusty ground, and just had the instincts to roll before Lerant could press the tip of his sword to her throat.

"I thought we were sword fighting, here?" she said, a little breathlessly. She regained her feet and faced him again.

"A good fighter uses all the skills available to him." said Lerant smugly.

They clashed, exchanging blows, before circling again; each trying to get the measure of the other.

"You've improved."

"I know." Lerant sounded so smug, Kel had to suppress a snort of laughter.

"There's been a lot fighting, and Dom's been teaching me."

"He never taught you that leg sweep," Kel accused. She tried to break his defence with a flurry of upper cuts, but Lerant blocked them all.

"No, but he did teach me this."

Lerant snaked his blade in. He sliced the edge of Kel's sleeve, barely missing her flesh.

"And what else did he teach you?"

"Lots of things…" Lerant was cut short, nearly stumbling, as Kel used a combination of crescent cuts to send him away from her.

"He said I should train with you; he'll be disappointed if I beat you this easily," she teased. Lerant looked blank for a second, but before Kel could capitalise on his distraction, he was on her in a flurry of blows; less controlled but with more power behind them. She could see his muscles working now, sweat damp cotton outlining them, and feel the burn in her own shoulders and arms as she laboured to block his sword.

"What did he say?" Lerant gasped.

Kel scowled, not having any breath to waste on speech. She twisted her blade out of the lock and side stepped away.

"Just that you might be free for a bit of training, that's all."

She refrained from adding _you idiot_, partly to save energy, partly because Lerant seemed to be as touchy about such things as ever.

"Humph."

Lerant seemed mollified, and he relaxed enough to push his damp hair off his forehead. Kel used his moment of distraction to slide in, smooth and fast, twisting her blade in a joint wrenching move to disarm him.

"Surrender?" she breathed, her blade inches from his throat. Lerant almost crossed his eyes to look at it, and Kel, giddy from effort and lack of air, looked too.

Lerant used her split second of distraction to throw her over his hip, one hand smacking her wrist so she lost her grip on the hilt, and the sword went flying in the opposite direction to the Lady Knight.

"Really, Keladry, what are you doing rolling in the dust like that?"

Kel could _hear _the smirk in Lerant's voice. The breath had been knocked out of her, and she spluttered and gasped as she struggled to rise.

A hand appeared in her line of vision. She almost knocked it away, but some dust urgently demanded to be coughed out of her throat at that moment, and she couldn't co-ordinate herself sufficiently. Lerant grasped her wrist - not her sore right one, thankfully - and hauled her to her feet without much effort.

"Well fought," he said, as she brushed herself down.

Kel swilled out her mouth from her water bottle, before taking a long drink.

"Did Dom teach you the manners as well?" she asked, when the power of speech had returned. "You're really good now," she added, before Lerant could voice a spiky retort.

"I've had a lot of practice. I learned some things from the Shang Eagle, who passed through the North last summer…"

"…I'd never have noticed," Kel commented.

"…and Dom and I have been sparring a lot."

They began to walk back towards the barracks. Kel winced as she bent to pick up her sword. She knew she would ache later in the day.

"You and Dom have always got on well," she commented carelessly.

Lerant eyed her with suspicion.

"He's easy to get on with," he said noncommitally. "He's been a good friend. And he has a thing for the waifs and strays, like my Lord Raoul."

"Ouch. No need to rub it in."

They had reached the perimeter fence. Kel leaned on the spars, and Lerant lifted himself easily to sit on the top rung.

"I was as much one as you, 'till I came into the Own." He surveyed the field and barracks, mouth pressed in a still line.

"But you're not anymore. You're settled here, respected, with good friends."

"…good friends.." he echoed quietly.

Kel wondered what was running through his mind.

"You don't quite get it, Kel, but then you never can. You'll always be a Lady Knight, always set apart."

Lerant looked down at her, frowning slightly. She felt as if he was trying to say something important, but couldn't quite articulate it in a way he was sure she would understand.

Eventually he said, "We must do this again sometime. You could do with the practice, it seems."

"Tomorrow?" Kel said, as she put her sword back in the barrel. "You can teach me all the wonderful things that Dom and the Eagle taught you."

Lerant snorted and looked at her sharply, before vaulting off his perch. "I doubt we'll get that far. But I'll see you tomorrow." He strode quickly away.

Kel dragged herself over the fence and made her way to the Ladies' bathhouse. She needed a soak; for her aching muscles, and for her aching mind. She had to think about what Lerant had said, and more importantly, about what he had not.

**On a different note, an exciting round robin fic is being written by a variety of authors (including yours truly) at theswoop on Live Journal, and will eventually be posted here too. You can follow the links from my profile - go on! You know you want to.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the comments; I feel no compunction in saying - keep 'em coming!**

Said standard bearer was about to say a great many things which may have illuminated Kel's thoughts had she been there to hear. He was striding through the mess hall, searching the assembled mass of the King's Own. He fixed on his quarry, eyes thunderhead grey, and threw himself onto the bench opposite Dom.

"I just wanted to thank you in person."

"You're welcome." Dom looked quizzically at Lerant, ignoring his obvious irritation. "Mind telling me what for?"

"For foisting her on me! '_Oh, Dom said I should train with you, he said you'd be free!'_" Lerant folded his arms and scowled.

"Osbern said you and Lady Kel had a bit of a match this morning." Wolset had been ignored until now. "Said you beat her, but that you ought to send a little thank you note to Chiandra."

Lerant glowered at Wolset.

"Ah ha!" Dom was gleeful. "Why are you annoyed if you won? And what clever Shang tricks did he use?" he asked Wolset.

"Osbern said the parallel leg sweep, and a side angled throw.."

"You're surprised I won! Now I'm really hacked off!"

"Calm down. You had a good sparring session, and you won, what's the matter?" asked Dom.

"We're sparring again tomorrow. I couldn't not ask her! It's my duty to help those less skilled than me improve.."

Wolset snorted into his mug of tea.

"…and she was all by herself, and I know what that's like," he tailed off.

"Well, then."

"I don't mind about Kel, not really, I'm annoyed you set her up to train with me, knowing I wouldn't say no. You're getting as bad as my Lord Raoul."

"What can I say? I like to look after my friends." Dom grinned wickedly. "You learned an awful lot from the Shang Eagle. You might get on as well with Kel."

"She's good with the glaive and the battle axe, you know, big weapons.."

Lerant threw a roll at Wolset's head.

"What happened between me and Chiandra, firstly, is long over, and secondly, was between me and her."

"Yep, long over, Lerant." said Dom. "Time to move on."

Lerant sighed and rested his head in his hands. "I _knew_ that was what you were up to, trying to get us together."

"I wasn't up to anything, it's not always all about you. I was helping Kel out; she's my friend and I care about her."

"Why don't you have her, then?" Lerant retorted.

Dom looked away, sheepishly.

"Among other reasons, I was warned off," he said eventually.

Lerant and Wolset stared in frank astonishment.

"Who?" Wolset eventually gasped.

"Neal. Said if I did anything that might hurt Kel, cousin or not, he would curse me in new and inventive ways until my dying day. You know he's got an imagination."

"Whew." Lerant looked far more cheerful. "I always thought you were looking out for her, but after Raoul and Buri's wedding, I wondered if you'd make a move…hah! Someone out of reach, that must be a first, Dom."

Lerant smirked happily, meeting his friend's eyes. He felt, under that intense blue gaze, as if there was something he didn't understand, or something that was hidden. The feeling was fleeting, but left him wondering.

Wolset was speaking; "…so that might solve all our problems."

"What might?" asked Dom, who seemed as distracted as Lerant felt at that moment.

"The heroes' ball tomorrow. Lots of noble ladies, looking for a fine soldier like the sort sitting in the vicinity. I'm just a commoner, but it does you good to look at all the pretty ladies. And, well, you never know…"

"I have no chance with any noble ladies. They have no wish to associate with traitorous spawn like me." Lerant glowered again.

"That's why Kel would be good for you, ungrateful brat." said Dom, pleasantly. "I could undertake a little flirting, a little dancing. Show you how it's done."

"Pompous git." Lerant commented.

"We have to go, anyway. May as well enjoy ourselves." said Wolset.

Lerant sighed. "I'll go, but I shall _not_ enjoy myself." He stood to go. "See you later."

The two men watched him go. "It never fails to astound me that Chiandra Smoksra, the Shang Eagle, had a relationship with him." said Wolset. "I think it was because she liked a challenge."

"Only a woman with Shang discipline could put up with him."

Wolset knew Dom had been worried about Lerant, put a lot of time into him after the Eagle had left. He had sparred with Lerant, kept him busy, stopped him from turning his anger and frustration inwards. He still looked worried; Wolset thought he should lighten the mood.

"So, sarge, any good tips for the ball? With the ladies?"

"Hmm?" Dom still looked distracted and concerned, watching the blond man stalk away. He turned his head and looked at Wolset, and concentrated for a second. "Grooming always helps. When did you last have a shave?"

"This morning!"

"I mean a proper shave, from a barber, with hot towels and soap and a real razor?"

"Never?"

"Good grief, man!" Dom exclaimed in only partially mock horror. "This must be rectified. Get your scruffy body to the bath houses, have a real shave, and…" he paused, looked about surreptitiously, leaned closer, "ask for some Number One Balm."

"What's that?" Wolset whispered, voice reverential.

"My secret weapon. You were wondering how Lerant got together with the Eagle? Well, I pointed him in the direction of Number One Balm just before we headed north."

Wolset whistled softly. "I knew there was something. Is it spelled?"

"It's the special blend of herbs women can't resist."

Wolset snorted and the mood was broken.

"Don't mock until you've tried it!"

"I admit a good shave and a haircut won't do me any harm, but special herby ointment? I remain to be convinced."

Dom smiled. "Just try it. Lerant was sceptical to begin with. Got to be worth a try?"

"Perhaps."

A bell rang through the mess hall, heralding a scraping of benches and a clatter of cutlery.

"Ah, another afternoon taking inventory of Third Company's weapons. I must away, Wolset, and do my duty." Dom stood, and stretched.

"The burdens of command, Sarge," he grinned back, clambering out from behind the bench.

"Take my advice about the shave, though."

"I will. Can't deny the ladies love you." Wolset clapped Dom's arm and headed out the door.

Dom shook his head slightly before following. That was precisely his problem.


	4. Chapter 4

Kel decided to drop into her rooms and collect a change of clothes on the way to the baths. She was mentally listing which clothes were clean and didn't need repaired - a fairly small list - so she almost missed the square of cream parchment lying on her floor. The note must have been pushed under her door whilst she and Lerant had been sparring.

Kel sat on the bed and investigated the envelope. The linen parchment was heavy and crisp; her name and title inked in the artful blue-black script of a scribe. Intrigued, she cracked the dark blue seal and withdrew the envelope's contents.

Their Royal Highnesses King Jonathon and Queen Thayet request the presence of  
Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan  
Tomorrow night at the eighth bell, in the First Ball Room.  
There is to be a banquet and dance to officially commemorate the end of the Scanran War, and to celebrate the bravery of the soldiers and Knights who fought for our realm.

Kel's heart sank. This was exactly the sort of thing that made her wish she was back on active duty. She stashed the invitation on her desk, and decided to worry about it after her bath. As she grabbed a clean shirt and the breeches with only one patch, Kel wondered if she'd find space behind the ballroom curtains, or if Lord Raoul would have taken the best spot.

*

The bath house was nearly empty. Kel floated, just her face tilted above the warm water. She knew her fingers and toes would resemble watery pink raisins by the time she left the water, but it was worth it. Months and years of basins, the occasional tepid half empty hip bath, or streams in summer. She felt properly clean and relaxed; it was wonderful. Still, there was only so long a body could stay in a bath, and she had parties and troublesome men to worry about. Kel made her way to the edge, took the towel discreetly offered by the attendant, and started to make her way back to the changing rooms.

Kel was walking back to her rooms through the corridors near the tailors' and apothecaries' work room when she heard her name called by a familiar voice.

"My Lady! Oh, my Lady Kel!"

A voice called, slightly echoing off the tiled walls. Kel saw a small, dark haired figure, waving enthusiatically.

"Lalasa!" Kel greeted her former maid with pleasure. The two woman embraced.

"You look tired, my Lady," the older woman said with concern. "Was the War so hard on you?"

"Oh, well," Kel avoided the question, "I feel much better than I did, so it doesn't really matter what I look like."

"Hmmm."

"You look very well, though. Are you working at the Palace, Lalasa?" Kel asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, there have been dresses to finish for the ball tomorrow, and it's easier to work here than try and transport everything between fittings. Everyone wants to look their best, to celebrate the end of the war and see all the war heroes…" Lalasa stopped short and gazed at Kel. "But, my Lady, you'll be going, you're a war hero!"

"The invitation only arrived today," Kel said dubiously.

"Well, you are just back from the North…" A terrible thought seemed to strike Lalasa. "You'll have nothing to wear!"

Kel scowled. "I have plenty of uniforms."

Lalasa ignored this as too ridiculous for comment.

"I have a lovely gown, a wonderful green satin, I can easily alter it in time."

"Thank you, but you'll be far too busy. If I'm going as a war hero, anyway, maybe I have to be in uniform."

"As a Lady Knight, I am sure you can wear a dress. And I am never too busy for you, this is the least I could do."

Lalasa's eyes glittered with emotion. Whether it was with gratitude to her old mistress, or sheer terror Kel might go to a ball in breeches, Kel didn't know. She did know when she was beaten, though.

"In that case, I would be delighted."

"Oh, my Lady, you will be beautiful. Come straight away, I can take some measurements and get the girls started on the plain stitching."

"Girls?"

"There are three seamstresses, as well as me." Lalasa said shyly.

"I am so pleased for you, Lalasa, so pleased." Kel gripped her hand.

"It's all down to you, my Lady." Lalasa really looked as if she was going to burst into tears, but seemed to master her emotion.

"Come now, Lady Kel, we haven't time to waste."

As Kel was dragged away, to dress fittings and measurements and Goddess alone knew what else, she wondered if Lalasa was still as adept at explaining the whys and where-for's of men and women as she had been when Kel was a page. Maybe some good will come of this, Kel mused, maybe she will help me work out what's going on with Lerant.

aAaAaAaAa

"Hold still my Lady, hold still just one second longer - there!"

"Lalasa, I can't breathe!"

Of course you can my Lady, of course, you just have to take little breaths, same as you have to take little steps. It's just the way you wear a dress like this. Do take a look at yourself." Lalasa turned Kel round to face the full length mirror in the corner of the fitting room.

Kel stared at herself in wonderment. The gown was of green silk, trimmed with heavy brocade round the square neckline. The billowing sleeves hid her heavy muscles, and it seemed to hold Kel in a ladylike posture - she felt as if she couldn't slouch even if she tried.

"My Lady, do you like it? You're not saying anything.."

"That's because I don't know what to say… you are a genius, Lalasa. You've made me look like a completely different person." Kel twisted to look at herself side on. "Really, there's no spell on this cloth?"

"Lady Kel!" Lalasa chided, half pleased. "Nothing but the work of our hands in the cloth."

"Then I have never appreciated your Gods-given skills properly before."

"Neither does she." A new voice, a gentle alto, came from the doorway. "Only the finest dressmaker in Corus could receive the number of commissions Lalasa does." A petite blonde woman walked in, bobbing a quick curtsey to Kel before moving quickly to stand beside Lalasa.

"Tian." Lalasa smiled warmly, and gripped hands with the other woman for a second. Kel felt momentarily awkward, intruding on what seemed to be an intensely intimate moment.

"The Royal Ladies will be here for their final fittings in a few minutes." Tian was saying. "Shall I start, or will you be along?"

"I'll be with you in a minute; I'll just finish with Lady Kel's dress."

Tian nodded, smiled, then left the room.

"Tian works with you?" Kel asked lightly.

"Oh, yes. We discovered we worked together well years ago, when I was maid to you, Lady Kel, and well, it made sense to stay together. Left arm up, please."

Kel raised her arm, and looked down at Lalasa she pinned a seam.

"Together?" She asked soft, half to herself.

"Together." Lalasa looked up, slightly flushed, but her gaze steady. "It's not done to talk of such things, my Lady. Right arm now."

"Not talked of. But it happens…" Kel felt an idea tickle the back of her mind.

"Lalasa," she asked slowly, "the servants don't speak of it; I know the nobles don't. But what do the servants hear?"

"A great deal, my Lady. Step up, please."

Kel stepped onto the footstool, and said "About my friends…in the King's Own."

Lalasa glanced up from Kel's hem. "All the stories about Sir Raoul are just that, now he's married, my Lady."

"Nothing more recent?"

"I never took you for a gossip, my Lady." Lalasa frowned a little up at Kel.

"Not gossip - just one of my friends has been acting a little, well, oddly, and it would explain quite a bit."

"Ah." Lalasa took a pin out of the little velvet pad strapped to her wrist, and twirled it in her slim fingers. It sparkled in the sunlight. "As I said, when it happens, it is not spoken of. But maybe nothing has happened?"

"Hmmm."

"Or maybe your friend wishes, or desires, something to happen?"

"That may be it…" Kel thought of how Lerant had lingered over Dom, and Dom's help and friendship, and it all made a crystallising sort of sense to her. Of course Lerant would say or do nothing about it, with his Eldorne pride and prickly insecurity...

"And that's it, my Lady. You can take the gown off now. Lady Kel?"

Kel snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, yes, thank you." She stepped down and stepped behind the dressing screen.

"It's my job."

Kel passed the dress over the screen and began pulling on her breeches. "Not just the dress. For the talk. Things are much clearer, now."

"Well, I'm glad I if I can ever help my Lady."

Kel stepped back round the screen. She smiled, warmth and purpose in her eyes.

"I can see how to help my friends, now."


	5. Chapter 5

For **oirishgodess**, who always leaves the nicest reviews.

**

It was the evening of the ball. The castle was bustling, from the strangely organised panic in the cellars and kitchens, to the calm preparations in the great hall, to the fluttering of maids and their ladies in small rooms in the highest towers of the castles. In the barracks, however, preparations were not going so smoothly.

"Sarge, really, I smell like the Ladies' bath house," Wolset protested. "This can't be right…" he tailed off, peering at his face in the mirror. "Although it sort of makes your face, sort of, even, I guess.." The corporal turned and surveyed himself from another angle, his expression gradually changing from worry and horror to worry and curiosity.

"I told you a good shave makes all the difference to a man's appearance," Dom smiled. "We'll do the King's Own proud tonight, I think."

"Well, you maybe," Wolset muttered. He was fascinated by the mirror, and keep contorting his features to see every angle of his impossibly smooth face. "It's quite scary, the speed they move that razor around at," he mused, "but they do a good job."

The door slammed, and Lerant careered into the barracks, slamming his knee off a bunk, and howling obscenities before he reached Dom and Wolset.

"What's up with you?" the corporal asked, blinking in surprise.

"What's up with you?" Lerant retorted, "pulling faces in the mirror? You look like a bulldog licking a thistle!"

"Lerant!" Dom interrupted, "What on earth is up with you?"

"Ugh," Lerant explained eloquently. He ran long fingers through damp blond hair - he had obviously just come from the baths. Dom could smell the sandalwood scent of the soap rising from his warm skin…

"I was sparring with Kel," Lerant continued, breaking through Dom's reverie. "I think I am her latest cause."

"Cause?" Wolset asked, pulling on a clean white shirt, "what do you mean?"

"You know, like the enormous horse and the one eared dog and the orphan and the refugees and…" Lerant began. The rest of the list was lost as he pulled off his own shirt and started to put on his dress uniform as well, "..and she seems to want to make sure I am happy in myself, I believe were her exact words." He tied the laces on his cuff and looked morose; Lerant's anger never lasted long, especially when he had a sympathetic audience.

Wolset cast what he fondly thought of as a cunning look at Dom. It failed, firstly because Dom was polishing his boots intently, and secondly because it looked rather more like toothache than cunning.

"I think," Wolset ventured, not off put by the lack of effect his attempts at non-verbal communication had yielded, "that Kel likes you, Lerant."

"Ha!" Lerant shrugged into his tunic. "Nope. She was mainly set on how my friends, and my comrades, that they really do care even if they don't show it, and I should appreciate them."

Dom looked up, suspicious. What did Kel think, to say that? "She thinks we don't appreciate you?" he asked.

"No, she thinks I don't appreciate all of you," Lerant explained. "What would really make me appreciate you, Dom, would be if you gave my boots a bit of a polish, you know, while you're at it." He shot Dom one of his rare, dazzling smiles.

"Cheeky upstart. Do them yourself," Dom couldn't help but grin in return.

"And mess up my clean linen?"

"You should have thought of that earlier," Wolset retorted, strapping his spotless swordbelt into place.

"Give them here, " Dom relented, holding out a hand for the long black boots.

"Oi!"

"I can't have him letting the side down, can I, Wolset?" Dom smiled, applying polish to the boots, "Lerant will just have to think about his time management more carefully next time. Possibly whilst mucking out the company stables tomorrow morning." The smile became a wolfish grin.

"Ah, Sarge," Lerant moaned, "give them back, I'll do it myself."

"Done now." He handed the boots back. "You make such a drama out of everything, Lerant."

Lerant raised one eyebrow. "It was a stressful morning. I am not my usual, calm self."

"Listen to that," Dom smiled, "you just brought Kel back into the conversation. I think, Lerant, that maybe Wolset has it the wrong way round, and you have a thing for her."

"For the last time, I do not! I wish you two would let me be about this. There is nothing between me and Kel!" Lerant shoved his feet into his shining boots, grabbed his belt and sheath, and jumped to his feet. "I'm off."

"Where?" Dom asked, a little dismayed. It never failed to surprise him how quickly Lerant's temper could flare.

"Armoury," he replied, waving the empty sheath.

"See you at the Ball," Wolset called pleasantly after him. The door slammed in reply.

"Why…?" Dom asked, frowning.

"You know what he's like, don't let it worry you," Wolset said. "Really, Dom, you know how his temper is. It never normally bothers you."

"No…he just seemed to protest too much, there. I wonder if he does have a liking for Kel."

"That wouldn't be a bad a thing. Well, maybe for Kel," Wolset chuckled.

"Hmm," Dom replied, non commitally, pulling on his shiny boots, "No, but they're the most stubborn pair of creatures. I just wonder if it will all end in tears."

"Who can say? We better get moving, or we're going to be late. Old grumpy can meet us down there, if he shows up."

Dom followed Wolset out of the barracks, and the corporal worried that his sergeant was just a little quiet.


	6. Chapter 6

The Ball was in full swing. Wolset looked blissfully happy; he had a goblet of good wine in one hand, and a good view of the Court Ladies performing a set dance in the middle of the Hall. They twinkled and glittered in the candle light, like jewels or exotic birds. Domitan of Masbolle frowned as he looked at the corporal; he wished he could relax and enjoy the spectacle like Wolset, but his mind was elsewhere. He was worrying, and worried that he seemed to be worrying, an endless cycle. He took a pull from his own goblet, and glanced around the crowds. A movement caught his attention; a young man with golden hair and a royal blue uniform was shouldering his way towards them: Lerant. The cycle of thoughts in Dom's head stopped, then began to whirl in new and more complicated trajectories.

"Hello, Lerant," Dom said mildly. Wolset glanced over, raised his goblet in brief acknowledgement, and turned his full attention back to the dancing ladies.

"Nice to see you, too, Wolset," Lerant said. "Dom, you are a sight for sore eyes!"

"Really?" Dom took a swallow of his wine. It knew it was good, but he didn't taste it. "Do explain."

"Being a traitorous brat, most concerned mothers and aunts keep their young female relatives well away from me," Lerant said brightly, "in case they turn in to Stormwings or ogres at one touch from my vile hand."

"Only prudent of them," Dom said, "they can't be too careful." Wolset laughed without looking over.

"Oh, you're so funny after some wine," Lerant said, swiping Dom's goblet, "but this hero thing seems to be going some way to counteract the treachery. They keep catching me, and talking to me, and asking me about the resurgence of the Eldorne fortunes!" He paused to gulp some of Dom's wine, "and I have done nothing but dance with young ladies all night!"

"Explain to me how you find that a bad thing?" Dom asked, making a move to retrieve his goblet, "you always used to complain how you got no attention!" Funny how easily this banter came to him, if it meant talking to Lerant.

"It's all well and good, I danced with the girls, but after I told them just one or two jokes, made a few amusing observations, they fled, really actually ran away from me the second the dance ended!"

"Lerant, you know not to use your sense of humour on people immediately. It's not fair, they don't expect it. You scared those girls off all by yourself." Dom swiped back his goblet, which was empty. "Ungrateful wretch," he added.

"I second that," Wolset added, still not looking over. "All you had to do was smile and be nice, and the girls would be all over you."

"Well, you can have Maria of Hollyrose, then," Lerant muttered.

"Oh, the ginger one?" Wolset did glance round at that, "I couldn't get involved with nobles, Lerant."

"Lucky you," Lerant replied. He did look as if he had been dancing all night, Dom thought. There was a flush in his normally pale cheeks, and he'd worked the collar of his good linen shirt loose. Although that could partly be the stress of being chased by the match making mothers. He faded back into Wolset and Lerant's bickering.

"…because you're such an oil painting, Wolset."

"At least I'm not a pretty boy."

"Ha! I saw you coming out of the bath houses this afternoon," Lerant retorted, "and I have it on very good authority that you have been indulging in skin care products!"

"Ah, none left for you, was there?" Wolset asked.

A familiar, and at this point, very welcome voice sounded over Dom's shoulder. "Are the children getting over excited at the party, then?"

"Kel!" Dome turned in relief. "Kel?" She was dressed in a, well, a dress. A beautiful dress, green satin heavy with complex embroidery. He hair was pulled back and up, and she smelt amazing, warm and floral at the same time. "You look lovely, if I may say," he smiled.

"And you look very smart, Sergeant," she returned.

"Modest, Kel. How are you finding the Ball?" Dom asked, moving the conversation onto topic he knew Kel would find more comfortable.

"Pleasant," she replied, frowning mildly. "What are Wolset and Lerant going on about?"

"It started with Lerant being frustrated about match making mothers, when really he was being charm-less towards their daughters. It followed onto insulting each others' grooming habits, and now…" Dom paused to listen.

"Seems to be one's parentage," Kel suggested.

"Indeed," said Dom, "although I have to say I've met Wolset's mother, and she bares no resemblance to a shrew…" he listened again, "…or a squirrel."

Kel chuckled, as she watched Lerant and Wolset's argument, real pleasure in her face. "I think maybe you should intervene, being the ranking officer," she suggested, eventually.

"But you are a Knight, my Lady. Surely you outrank me?"

Kel raised he eyebrows at the challenge. She took a deep breath and swallowed, working her throat muscles. "Eldorne! What in the name of the Graveyard Hag are you up to?" she growled, in a perfect imitation of Lord Raoul.

Lerant and Wolset started and turned, looking startled. Lerant did a double take, then scowled at Kel. "That was not fair! I thought I was for it then!" He looked at Kel again. "Hey, Kel, you look good."

"Absolutely," Wolset added.

"He has been watching all the ladies very intently all night, so he should know," Lerant commented.

"Better than their mothers watching you," Wolset began. Kel cleared her throat pointedly. Dom tried not to smile too broadly. Watching Lerant and Kel spar was always a pleasure.

"Lovely dress, Lady Kel, nicest I've seen," Wolset finished.

"Thank you, Corporal," Kel dipped into a curtsey, "for that well crafted compliment."

"Do I not get a curtsey?" Lerant asked, not quite jokingly, catching Kel's eye as she stood up straight.

"Compliments should not be offered in a tone of surprise, Lerant," Kel said. "I'm sure you wouldn't tell Dom his tunic was particularly flattering with that incredulous look on your face."

"I wouldn't tell Dom that with any look on my face," bristled Lerant. "What a stupid thing to say."

"So I'm stupid and Dom's ugly, and Wolset's mother sounds like a squirrel," Kel recapped.

"You know damn well you're not stupid, Kel, no matter how much you pretend to be with that Yamani blankness."

"But Dom's still ugly…"

"Of course he isn't!" Lerant interrupted, "and why in Mithros' name are you going on about Dom….?" Lerant's gaze flicked back and forth between Kel, her face held quite motionless, and Dom, going faintly pink. Then he shut his mouth, tight, carved lips pressed in a bloodless line.

"My Lady Knight," Lerant said, voice quite emotionless, "Unmanned by your beauty, may I request the honour of the next dance?" He half bowed and extended one hand with a flourish.

Dom and Kel exchanged a look. Dom shook his head ever so slightly, but Kel narrowed her eyes and took Lerant's proffered hand.

"I accept your offer," she stated, and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor.

"What the…? Dom, what in the name of the Great Mother is going on?" Wolset asked, brow furrowed.

Suddenly pale, Dom shook his head, and watched the figures, motionless on the dance floor, waiting for the music to begin.


	7. Chapter 7

Kel and Lerant stood in each other's arms on the dance floor, and the music began.

"So, are you going to tell me what you meant by all of that?" Lerant asked conversationally, as they began to circle. His voice was light, but his grip on Kel's hands was tight and tense.

She looked at him for a second, as the dance demanded they part, clap, then reunite. She opened her mouth, but Lerant cut her off.

"Don't say, 'Nothing,' with that blank look on your face," he warned, "I know you too well, by now."

And it was years, Kel realised, nearly seven years since they had first met. She shut her mouth and looked properly at him, really looked in those brown eyes.

"Is there any point?" she asked cautiously, "or am I just telling you what you already know?"

"And that would be?" Lerant twirled Kel under his arm, which gave Kel time to decide how to play her cards. All or nothing, she decided. Now or never.

"The truth," she said, facing him again, hand clasped firmly back in his, "is that you won't admit your feelings."

He chuckled, despite himself. "Well, if anyone knows about that, you do." His face lost some tension, and he flicked his head back, causing the light from the chandelier to catch in his golden hair, slide over his flushed skin. "Hiding things, huh?" He spun Kel again, and this time held her properly, fingers locking in her hand, other back on the small of her back. "What are you hiding, Kel?" Lerant stared Kel in the eye for half a second, before the music demanded her swing her away from him.

Kel wondered how the swirling, twirling dance was making so her dizzy, when she had drunk nothing but fruit juice all night.

"This concept that I am deceiving myself," Kel finally commented, between claps, "is one to which you seem curiously attached."

"You're the one going on about the truth. So tell me," Lerant leaned close to Kel's ear and whispered, "what's the truth?"

She paused and almost fell, as the dance carried her partner on. Kel tripped over Lerant's feet, and as he easily caught her, she looked into his eyes and became aware that the truth could sometimes change. The music stopped.

She squeezed his hands, and stepped back into her surprisingly elegant curtsey. Kel was nothing if not composure under pressure, manners before all else. "Thank you for the dance, Lerant."

Lerant scowled, an expression far more familiar than the knowing smile that had been plastered on his face, but he took Kel's hand and followed her from the dance floor.

Wolset was still standing in his viewpoint, watching the dancing. "Very nice," he commented as Kel and Lerant made their way back to him. "Lovely twirls."

Lerant made a face, and was about to retort - no doubt something clever involving squirrels being more at home twirling through branches - when Kel cut in.

"Where's Dom?"

Lerant nodded once, down and then up, a simple flick of the head, before he held himself still and took a stance very much resembling parade rest.

"He went to get a drink," Wolset said.

"That sounds like a very good idea. A drink would be lovely. Lerant?"

"Yes, I think I'd like a drink, now, if you're getting them."

"That means I can keep Wolset company, if you don't mind getting me a fruit juice, too."

"Really?" Lerant's face was an odd mix, unreadable. "I think Wolset is quite happy here; but I could do with an extra hand if I'm to get him a drink, too."

"Oh, I'm fine…oof!"

"…so chivalrous of you to help, Kel," Lerant continued, stepping smoothly away from Wolset. He indicated for Kel to lead the way.

Kel kept the displeasure from her face - barely - and started to walk. Lerant kept close behind her, close enough to whisper in her ear.

"Right, I thought I had it sorted, I thought I knew what was going on, and now I'm just as confused as before." He put a firm hand on Kel's shoulder, and steered her away from the drinks and seated area at the back of the hall, towards the curtained bay windows at the side of the great room.

"What sorted out?" Kel asked. She let her self be guided, wanting to get to find out what he meant. Lerant was usually frustrating and infuriating, but this was confusing, even by his standards. They stepped into a window bay, and were half hidden by the heavy velvet curtains.

Dom had been sitting unnoticed on a low sofa, busying his hands and his mouth with a wine goblet, and hoping he soon wouldn't have to think too much. His eyes were still working upsettingly well, though, and they seemed to want to occupy themselves with Lerant, and thus Kel. He watched them begin to talk, as he had watched them walk past, had watched them dance. They had been getting physically closer all night, and now their heads were almost touching. Kel was explaining something, hands gesturing as she sought to shape her words. Dom saw Lerant start, golden head jerking up and eyes searching the room for a second. Dom sunk lower in his chair and buried his face in his wine goblet, but Kel had grasped Lerant's arm and pulled him deeper into the alcove, lips moving fast. She paused, and spread her hands, palms up, in a gesture that seemed equally a question and an apology.

Lerant was standing very still, arms tightly folded. Dom fancied he could see the muscles in his cheek work as he chewed his lip, but that might have been his projection, because he knew the movement so well, had seen it so many times before. Eventually, Lerant leaned over, and murmured softly in Kel's ear, just a few words. Dom's imagination began to flash uncomfortably, with sensations of breath on necks and…he took another numbing gulp of wine.

When he lowered his goblet, Lerant was striding away, and Kel was watching him leave, her hand pressed to half parted lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Kel stood stock still in the alcove for a long moment, eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance, hand covering her mouth. Eventually Dom saw her exhale, shoulders drooping, before she turned and looked about.

With no Lerant to distract her, Kel's gaze soon lit upon Dom, who was still slouched low in the comfortable chair. He raised his goblet in grim acknowledgement. No hiding now, he thought, as Kel made her way over to sit opposite him.

"Dom," she said, laying her palms carefully flat on her satin covered lap, "I believe I owe you an apology."

"I'm sorry?" Dom started. A traitor part of him said it was only his due, but an apology hadn't been what he was expecting.

"No, that's what I'm meant to say," Kel joked weakly. "Lerant. I think I've misunderstood."

Dom shook his head. "I don't understand," he began, mind racing. Lerant had left her with a flush on her cheeks and a hand on her lips, and she was sorry? It had been a misunderstanding? Dom felt a clutch of anger and jealousy in the pit of his stomach. If he hadn't been drinking to forget, he would have stormed away. As it was, all he could do was stare and listen. He could forget this, too, along with the rest of the night. Along with a lot of other things.

"I should start at the beginning, I suppose," Kel said, and did so. She explained about the sparring and conversation with Lerant, of his regard for Dom, his cryptic mention of things Kel, as a Lady Knight, could never understand. She spoke of Lerant's brittle pride, and of her own resolution to help him, if she could. "I tried to let him know that I knew - or thought I knew, turns out - and I thought we were on the same page, had an understanding. But after the dance, just now, I wasn't so sure." At this Kel knotted her fingers together and glanced away for a second. Dom had never seen her in less control of herself. "So I thought I had better speak plainly." She laughed, softly, and looked Dom in the eye. "Turns out I was wrong all along."

"So," Dom said carefully, setting his wine carefully down by his foot (for he was fairly sure he would need it later), "you were under the impression that Lerant had a certain - regard - for me, and you wished to, shall we say - facilitate - matters?" He sat back, frowning and laughing together with the way Kel had it all, perfectly, back to front. "I wondered what you were on about earlier. Now I know what you meant, seems you're actually not very subtle."

"Knight," said Kel. "I hit things for a living. Not much call for subtle."

"No, but I take it when you stated what you thought was obvious, just now," Dom gestured towards the alcove, "Lerant was shocked at your conclusions." Shocked was far better than what Dom had though had happened, better than hot breath on skin and tingling lips….He brought that image to a halt.

"That was one way of putting it," Kel remarked.

"What did you actually say?"

"Much what I just said to you…I may have finished with a remark along the lines of "your love does not have to be hidden" and then the words "let Dom know your true feelings" may have slipped out."

"Oh, Kel," Dom sighed. He reached down for his wine goblet and drained it in a single swallow. "Did he laugh in your face? Or was he bitterly sarcastic in that superior way he has?" Anything but kiss you.

"He was - and I've never seen him quiet like that, Dom - he leaned very close and whispered, so seriously, that he hoped I would not endeavour to help him in any matter of the heart again. Then he stalked off."

"With his head too high? I know. That sounds like a sarcastic line to me, though."

"It was too, I don't know, there was no eyebrow waggling and smirking, like he really was serious, and angry as well," Kel sighed. "What a mess I've made." She rubbed the back of her hand quickly across her eyes.

"Only on top of the ground work of others. You know Lerant thinks Wolset and I were trying to set him up with you?"

"Me?" Kel exclaimed. "But he hates me!"

"Of course he didn't hate you Kel." Dom paused. "Of course he doesn't hate you, Kel. But what on Earth possessed you to try and help him in such an obvious way? And why in the name of the Three Fold Goddess did you think he was in love with me?" Dom fingered his far too empty goblet.

"You're so close, and he seems to think so much of you. I know he had a secret as well."

"We're friends," Dom told Kel. Friends, friends, friends, he told himself. "And, well, we all have secrets. Sarcastic, aristocratic standard bearers don't have a monopoly on that."

They were both quiet for a second, and their thoughts lingered on their secrets. Kel's might have been new and startling, Dom's old and dear, but they were the same.

"You thought Lerant was in love with me," Dom repeated.

"I'm sorry, Dom, but I thought there was something there, and I wanted to do some good, make my friend happy…"

Dom held up his palm to quiet Kel. He couldn't quite look her in the eye, but with his gaze fixed on her shoulder, his voice was quite clear. "Would you help me, if I was in love with Lerant?"

****

Lerant had stalked out of the Ballroom, battling every at every step not to break into a run. When had Kel become so meddlesome? Of course she had her causes and her strays, but this was plucking fictions out of thin air! Too agitated to look where he was going, Lerant bounced off the door frame, lurched into the hallway, nearly sent a small ornamental table flying and began to swear loudly. A dowager, finely dressed in blue and grey silk, paused to gaze down her nose at Lerant.

"In a hurry, young man?" she enquired, vowels crystal sharp.

"Excuse my impropriety, dear Lady," Lerant snapped, "I mind myself in the midst of a conspiracy!" He hoped that he didn't sound as shrill as he thought he did.

"Hmm," the lady replied, touching the pearls at her throat. "Somehow, I think not. Feminine intuition and the experience of years suggests to me you are being slightly overdramatic."

Lerant huffed in outrage.

"Yes," she continued, "but I suggest you go and speak to the girl involved. Communication, that's the key."

"Why," Lerant demanded, dropping his tones as low as he could manage, "do you presume it's all about a g-" he coughed, "a girl."

"Or a boy, then." She smiled gravely. "It generally is, my dear."

Lerant bowed silently and continued his charge down the hall. The Duchess shook her head fondly at the foolishness of young, and continued into the Ballroom.

Lerant's charge down the corridor was unimpeded. He made his way out into the Gardens and scrunched his way down the neat gravel paths to the farthest reaches of the grounds. The evening was chill enough that Lerant had the area to himself. He was deeply grateful for the lack of courting couples, but the temperature forced him to keep moving, and paced busily round the fountain.

Whether it was the cold, the exercise, or the calming chatter of water on stone, Lerant eventually began to wind down, and think. He had thought Kel had been holding a torch for Dom herself, the way she went on about him. She'd hardly shut up about how wonderful Dom was last times they'd sparred, and during the last dance she had spoken cryptically of secrets. Secrets! Lerant scuffed the neat gravel path and kicked the little stones randomly. Secrets in her head, just. Lerant supposed he and Dom were close, and who knows what the imaginative mind could conjure from their comradeship? Well, Lerant knew, because Kel had told him in detailed and specific words. He snorted and walked faster again; the logical part of him conceded Kel had thought she was doing good, and if she had only spoken to him…Lerant stopped dead. What if Kel had spoken to Dom? Would he think Lerant had a stupid, pathetic crush? Handsome, popular, kind Dom; the worst bit would be if he tried to let him down gently. Lerant clutched his head in his palms at the very idea. He would have to speak to Dom and warn him of Kel's fantasies, a pre-emptive strike would be the only way to lessen the mortification. Plan decided, Lerant wheeled to make his way back to the Ballroom, but a new and dreadful thought struck him.

What if Kel had told Wolset?

He crumpled bonelessly onto the fountain's edge.


	9. Chapter 9

Kel blinked at Dom, who was still avoiding her eye, fiddling with his wine goblet.

"You?" But you're…I had no idea."

"I'm, well, I'm…secrets," Dom said eventually, lifting his face. "As I said, Lerant's hasn't got the monopoly on them." He grinned ruefully. "Excepting it's not a secret now, as I've told you."

"What about Lerant?" Kel ventured, intrigued despite herself.

"You mean, have I declared my forbidden love?" Dom tried to drink from the empty wine goblet. Kel plucked it from his fingers.

"No, then," she deciphered the sarcasm. "If you are really asking for my help, well, I can speak to him for you…"

"No! Please, Kel. I'll sort this out myself." He retrieved his goblet and looked about for a waiter.

"Like you have done? Now I actually know what's going on, I might be able to help. I'll try. It's the least I can do." She wrung her fingers.

"Kel…" Dom began, but he was cut off by a clear voice calling across the ballroom.

"Domitan!" A tall, older woman, dressed in a very fine gown of gray and royal blue silk, bore down on them.

"Great Aunt!" He scrambled to his feet, not quite stumbling, and held out his hands to his relative. "Kel," he said, "this is my Great Aunt, Lady Abigail of Masbolle."

Kel curtseyed neatly, and bowed her head. Lady Abigail reached the two young people, and nodded sagely at them. "Young Domitan," she greeted her nephew, "and this must be the famous Lady Knight Keladry."

"My Lady," Kel said, straightening up. "I've very pleased to meet you."

"As am I," Abigail said. "Well done," she added briskly, leaving a bemused Kel to wonder exactly for what she was being praised.

"Domitan, you look the worse for drink," she commented, "but otherwise you seem well."

Dom smiled as if this sort of bluntness was to be expected. "Are you enjoying the ball, Great Aunt?"

"Most entertaining. I had a close encounter with an excited young man in the corridor. One of yours, Dom, if I'm not mistaken."

Kels face went perfectly, exquisitely blank, but her eyes flickered towards Dom. "What?" she mouthed at him, but Dom's attention was fixed on his Great Aunt.

"…yes, in the Own's dress uniform, so under your command, Domitan."

"Not necessary, I am only a Sergeant…"

"But in spirit, all of King's Own are your comrades?"

"Yes, but…"

"You should look into his welfare. He almost fell over that ugly table in the corridor, he was quite agitated. And I could tell he wanted to be rude when I offered him some advice. Rather fetching blond fellow."

Dom's eyebrows climbed his forehead, and Kel fidgeted as far as is possible in a tight satin gown.

"In that case, Great Aunt, I had best go and see to him immediately," Dom said.

Duchess Abigail nodded, approvingly. "It was good to see you, Domitan. Lady Knight." She swept away, like a ship in full sail.

"Phew," Dom passed a hand over his face. He lifted his eyes to Kel. "Oh, Gods."

"It was Lerant she was talking about?" she asked. Dom nodded. "Oh, Gods," Kel echoed. "One of us is going to have to speak to him. I should, it's my fault he's upset, I should fix this…"

"No," Dom said firmly. "I said to Abigail I would go, plus I don't trust you not to try and take advantage of the situation for tactical match-making porpoises. Purposes."

"You are the worse for drink. Your Great Aunt was right."

"She's always right, has Neal not told you of the Masbolle matriarchs?" Dom stood again, "Plus anything I say wrong, I can blame on the drink."

"Just tell the truth!" Kel called after his retreating back. "Good luck!" She bit her lip and hoped for the best.

Dom wondered what he was doing. He was doing as his Aunt bid him do. He was apologising for and explaining Kel's misunderstanding. He was going to tell Lerant…

Nothing. Nothing. The man was his friend, Gods curse it all, his comrade, his partner in arms…that was all. That was enough, plenty, more than enough. Dom paused to wonder where Lerant might have gone. Barracks? Mess? No, Lerant would have been looking for solitude, and if Dom knew him at all, some space for the frenetic pacing and clambering on things that usually accompanied Lerant's more troubled moods.

Gardens it was.

Dom felt much more sober by the time he got outside, the cold air clearing his head, the fresh night scents sharpening his wits. By the time he had walked twice round the paths, checked the thankfully empty bower, the last clouds of wine had evaporated from his system, so much so that the idea of giving all this up and going back to barracks was seeming more and more appealing. Dom was on the verge of heading back when a flurry of movement on the far side of the fountain drew his eye. He turned, and saw Lerant - and it had to be Lerant, by the blond hair catching the light, the familiar swinging stride, the way Dom's heart plunged into his stomach at the sight of him. Dom watched Lerant hustle round the edge of the fountain, two, three strides - and then sit suddenly, barely hitting the granite bowl, suddenly, horribly still.

Dom was sprinting before Lerant had finished falling, and he was couching in front of Lerant, unheeding of the sharp gravel, before he had drawn a full breath.

"Oh, by the Dice of the Graveyard Hag!" Lerant had his face in his hands, and seemed to speak to himself. "What if she told Wolset?"

"She hasn't told Wolset…" Dom began, then stopped suddenly.

"Masbolle!" Lerant whipped away his hands and seemed to notice Dom for the first time.

"You okay?" Dom proceeded airily, "looked like you took a stumble there." Lerant glared at Dom, still crouched on his knees. Dom began to feel slightly awkward, and rose to sit on the fountain's edge next to Lerant. "I knew you weren't all grace and poise," he continued.

"You're dissembling," Lerant stated. Dom looked away sharply - he couldn't stop himself. "She's told you…" Lerant buried his face in his hands again. "Oh, Gods, she told you! And now you're having a nice chat with me, setting the record straight…." Lerant suddenly clutched Dom by the shoulders. "It was all her, Dom, all Kel. I was her cause. Her project! She took ideas, in her head! I told you no good would come of me sparring with her! No. Good." He shook Dom for emphasis here. "But I swear, Dom, I swear, you don't have to fear for your maidenly virtue in the bath house, I am in no way interested, it was all in Kel's imagination!" Lerant paused for breath, and seemed to realise his face was inches from Dom's, and he was clinging onto Dom's shoulders. Lerant let go and sat back. "Honest," he added.

"Hah." Dom made a noise that was half laugh, half cough, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I…"

"I know, this is uncomfortable," Lerant interrupted. "But you don't have to let me down gently, or soften the blow, or anything."

"I wasn't…"

"It was the thought Kel had told Wolset that made me a little panicked, there," Lerant added. He managed to look Dom in the eye, and forced a sort of grimaced grin to his face. It was a deeply unbecoming expression, pulling Lerant's lips thin and tight, but Dom couldn't help but smile back.

"Panicked?" Dom asked lightly, raising one eyebrow a shade.

"Don't give me that, Masbolle, or I will tell Wolset myself and the single entendres that pass for his sense of humour shall be your punishment for mocking me." Dom raised the eyebrow a little further. "Well, maybe not," Lerant conceded.

The two men sat in companionable silence for a minute or two. Maybe this will be ok, Dom thought.

"Has this ever happened before?" Lerant asked, suddenly.

"People setting me up? Yes, sometimes," Dom conceded. "Emmit introduced me to his sister and his cousin, one Midwinter. I think he thought I'd make a good brother-in-law, or at least second cousin."

"Yes, I heard that." Lerant said, voice soft and thoughtful. "No, I meant men."

Dom took two quick breaths, and stole a glance at Lerant. The younger man had calmed down, and was looking at Dom with quiet interest. Dom had no idea what to say. Kel had said start with the truth. In the absence of a better plan, Dom began to open his mouth.

"Only," Lerant said, "it goes on, doesn't it? And you're about the best looking of the officers, and you're kind, you know, you're good to the new recruits. So there must have been lads with, well, crushes." Lerant tilted his head, scowled, an enquiring look. "I was just wondering if you'd gone to explain before."

"Well," Dom said. He had, truth be told. There had been a recruit, two years ago, and up until now it had been the most horribly awkward conversation Dom had ever had. "Yes," he conceded, "once." He didn't mention the faceless noble who had accosted him behind the bonfire last Beltane; Dom could not disabuse that admirer so easily. Admittedly, he hadn't really tried.

"Because Kel got the idea from somewhere, and I know I was going on about you being my best mate ever, helping me get over Chiandra and with sparring and stuff, but when did Kel ever pay attention to me? Or just to me? There had to be something else."

"And I was the number one choice for the young men of the King's Own?" Dom couldn't keep the smile from his lips.

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything. This is just feeding your ego."

Dom chuckled. "I would have said you were far prettier than me," he said seriously.

"Nice to know one of my friends is still talking sense," Lerant sighed. "I'm so sorry, Dom, this must be so embarrassing for you. I know Kel meant well, but it's you that has to deal with it. I appreciate your taking it so well. Not punching me and stuff."

"And ruin that bone structure?"

"You know it'd be a crime. Seriously, thank you."

"Seriously, Lerant," Dom began, voice hitching, "seriously, it's fine. And if it was true I'd be, well. I'd be flattered." He looked determinedly at the flowerbeds in the distance, listened to the clatter and tumble of the fountain at his back.

"Flattered?" Lerant said. "Damn right, I'm a catch, I am." He turned his head, and Dom knew he was looking for eye contact, for Dom to approve the joke, so they could share it. After a second, Dom felt Lerant turn his whole body towards him, linen whispering over the smooth stone of the fountain's edge. Dom determinedly looked at the craft of the gardeners.

"Sorry," Lerant said finally. "No more jokes. This can be one of things that we laugh about later."

"No, I meant it," Dom said quietly. "If you, well, if you did. If you were. I'd be pleased."

"Pleased I had good taste?" Lerant tried.

"Pleased you liked me." Dom decided suddenly that he couldn't feel any more wretched and uncomfortable than he did currently. He swivelled, sitting knee to knee with Lerant. "Pleased. Happy. It would be a good thing. Because I like you." Dom felt like he'd fallen in the middle of a tournament, or a battle, and in a few second the blow is going to fall, but until then, for the next few endless moments, he had to wait.

"That was a like with a capital L," Lerant said. "So Kel wasn't as wrong as she might have been. She was just back to front…" he tailed off.

The fountain continued to chatter away in the background. Dom was glad of it, because neither he nor Lerant were saying a thing.

"But," Dom finally managed, "nothing is going to change, or happen, I just…I just wanted to tell the truth, after all of this mess."

"Mess," echoed Lerant. "Dom, I have fought on battlefields. I have seen refugees carrying everything they possess. My own family has torn itself apart over treason. I have lost friends and family, seen people die for causes good and bad, big and small. This is not a mess. You are my friend, and….Gods, I'm no good at this, Dom." Lerant gripped Dom's knee, painfully tight. "This is not a bad thing, it doesn't even register as a bad thing. You'll always be my friend, Dom."

Dom finally turned to look at Lerant. "You're taking it well," he managed, because if he was joking with Lerant, then it was all going to be alright.

"I'd be hyperventilating if I wasn't so cold," Lerant said. Dom automatically placed his hand over Lerant's, which was still on his knee.

"You're freezing," Dom said. "Right, in, now. Else you'll collapse and then I'll have to carry you."

Lerant grinned. "Kel would be happy, then," he said. "You know, mission achieved and all that."

"That'd be a bit ironic," Dom admitted. He risked a glance up; Lerant's grey eyes were fixed on his face, clear and questioning. The sudden flash of hope in Dom's heart was so much worse than prospective of the killing blow.

"You two weren't in cahoots?" Lerant asked. "She did say it was your idea we spar together."

"What? No!" The hope disappeared in the dark. "No. You thought yourself it was my idea to set you up with Kel."

"Ah, but you're cunning. I don't trust you an inch," Lerant smirked.

"You are teasing me!" All of Dom's frustration, all of the wasted emotion, the hope, dear Mithros, the hope that dies before it had even lit up, it all flashed into anger. "Hells, Lerant, I thought you might not be a bastard about it. You of all people." Dom went to stand, only to find he couldn't.

That was because Lerant was holding his hand. Holding it tight. "Since when were you unable to take a joke?" Lerant asked softly. "Dom, I'm, well, I can't say I'm not flattered, either." He changed his grip on Dom's hand, held it carefully, not gripping or pinching, just maintaining the contact.

"You're going to say you're just glad it's not Wolset, aren't you," Dom managed, breath a little short. He could feel his pulse beating under Lerant's fingers.

"No." Lerant said. "However, as I believe I demonstrated earlier, it's either the sarcasm or nothing, really. So, well, I'm at a loss now." Lerant looked across at Dom. "What now?"

The sputtering flash of hope flared into a bonfire in his chest. Dom looked at Lerant, sitting quite still, half silvered and half shadowed in the moonlight. Dom leaned in, so, so slowly, amazed every moment that Lerant wasn't running screaming, and pressed his dry lips gently to Lerant's. Lerant didn't move, not a muscle, not a breath, but Dom could feel the grip on his hand tighten, felt his pulse batter against the increased tension. Dom deepened the kiss, moving his mouth over Lerant's mobile lips, lifting his free hand to touch the fine blond hair, making it flare with the moonlight. Heat flooded Dom's body, flaring in his gut and the base of his throat, searing his lips and his fingers, every place his body touched Lerant's. Every place Lerant touched him, because Dom realised, joy surging suddenly hotter than his lust, that Lerant had his hand on Dom's neck and the tingling in Dom's lower lip had a great deal to do with Lerant's teeth clamped on it. Dom laughed and drew back just enough to whisper.

"Let go," he breathed.

Lerant did so, resting his forehead against Dom's. "I see what the youngest Hannalof daughter was so pleased about," he smiled. Dom pulled Lerant's hair for his cheek, but said nothing as his mouth was occupied planting small kisses down the curve of Lerant's jaw. Lerant took a little gasping breath and swallowed hard. Dom knew this, because he could feel Lerant's throat move under his lips, and when Lerant started to speak, Dom could feel the vibration on his tongue.

"I am going to have to thank Kel, I think," was what Lerant said.

"Maybe later," Dom murmured.

"Yes," Lerant pulled Dom's face back up to his, looked into Dom's bright blue eyes. Not blue like sapphires, or the sea, or the sky, or any unoriginal nonsense like that. Blue like the eyes of a man who might love you.


End file.
